


Serendipity

by DittyWrites



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: But a fast slow burn, First Meetings, Flirting, M/M, Slow Burn, Snark, Theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 00:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13260072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DittyWrites/pseuds/DittyWrites
Summary: A visit to the local museum throws Bruce Waynes' life into disarray when the event is gatecrashed by a new criminal calling himself "The Riddler". Forced to confront the villain directly in order to save lives, Bruce is surprised to find that there may be more to him than meets the eye and that's without even taking into account the odd fascination which the Riddler has with him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will prob be about 5-ish chapters and each one will be a different meeting between Bruce Wayne (as Bruce Wayne) and Edward Nygma! For toloveakiwi who is a filthy enabler and an absolute gem xx

“Your various contributions to this museum have made our collective lives so much easier over the years, Mr Wayne.” With a broad grin, the curator of the latest collection brought his second hand up to cover Bruces' own as their handshake continued. “You truly have no idea- no idea- how much it means to finally speak to you face to face.”

Stretching his lips into a kind smile, Bruce met the earnest man with respect.

“Thank you, Dr McIvor. Your display of Roman weaponry is as impressive as it is interesting,” he offered, “and I hope it will bring a new element of culture to Gotham and her citizens.”

As he spoke, his eyes swept across the main foyer of the Gotham Museum of Antiquities and the glass cabinets which housed the various shields, spears and swords which had recently been put up for auction by their previous owners in Venice. With some financial backing from himself, Gotham had been the victory of the auction, narrowly beating out Star City, and despite the opening night of the display having been several weeks previously there was still considerable interest.

“It has been a popular display,” Dr McIvor confirmed, finally releasing Bruces' hand, “our footfall has increased 200% in the last month.”

Placing his hand back in the pocket of his suit, Bruce gave a quick shrug of his shoulders.

“Pleased to have helped.”

Feeling something brush against his side, he turned his head and was immediately met with the visage of Amelie LaBoux, noted Gotham socialite and regular pursuer of his affections,

“Hey, Brucie.” She purred, paying no mind to the poor curator.

“Amelie.” He offered with a polite nod.

“How are you doing, sweetie?”

Invading his space with no consideration for his current conversation, Amelie forced his attention and Bruce threw a quick apologetic look at Dr McIvor.

“I am fine.” He paused, lips pursed, before asking. “Yourself?”

“Oh i'm great,” her voice took on a faux-giddiness as she giggled, “just enjoying the party and feeling a little lonely. How is your friend, what was his name, Harold? Harold the lawyer?”

“Harvey Dent?” Bruce blanked his expression as she brought up his ex, no doubt aware of their months-long separation. “He's doing well. Plotting out his campaign for district attorney last I spoke to him.”

“Oh,” she smiled before lying, “I had forgotten that you two weren't a 'thing' anymore.”

Plastering a false smile on to his face, Bruce felt his irritation with the woman spike.

“We are still good friends but things wouldn't have worked out with us. His new partner, Gilda, is a wonderful woman. Very forward thinking.”

“And what about you Brucie?” Her hand slid onto his shoulder and he tensed. “You got another special someone to keep you warm at nights?”

“My bed is never empty for too long.” He answered, playing to his persona and hating himself for it. “But i'm here to support the museum, and the curator and I were just discussi-”

Darkness cut him off as the overhead lights of the museum flickered off for a moment before relighting with a unmistakable tinge of green which cast the entire room in a sickly light. A murmur of interest arose from the guests in the hall as they waited expectantly for some form of performance, not uncommon for a display of this magnitude, to begin.

However, as the seconds ticked by and nothing happened, the hair on Bruces' arm stood to attention as a chill of anticipation swept through him.

Something was wrong.

A loud smash of the double doors to the rear of the rooms, perfectly timed with the opening of the side doors, caused a widespread flinch in the room as the sound of gunfire littered the air.

  
“GET DOWN!” Bruce cried, grabbing Amelies' head and forcing her down to the ground to take cover as he quickly signalled for the other attendees to follow suit.

However, through the panic and cries, not a single howl of pain was detectable and Bruce felt a sigh of relief take him as he realised that the gunfire was a warning and each shot was targeted at the high ceiling above.

The half-dozen men who had burst into the room were easily distinguishable by the matching dark shirts and green slacks which covered each of them and identified them as a working group. Within their grasps were semi-automatic weapons. Not easy to deal with. Particularly given the number of hostages.

Bruces' eyes were quick to zero in on the leader as he presented himself through the double doors.

Of similar height to himself, the leader held the command of his handful of henchmen with very little effort as they filed out in perfect order and shepherded the groups of attendees into small, easy-to-manage groups.

The green spandex which clad his body did little to hide the thin frame and faint muscle tone contained within it. Hardly a physical threat. Emerald shoes and a tie-around salmon pink mask finished the ensemble and Bruce felt a twinge of irritation as he sensed the development of a new criminal persona for him to deal with.

Normal criminals did not have a tendency to play dress-up when on jobs.

“PEOPLE OF GOTHAM,” throwing his arms out in dramatic fashion, the criminal in charge drew every eye in the room to his presence, “TONIGHT YOU ARE MY SPECIAL GUESTS AND PRIVILEDGED WITNESSES!”

Lowering his tone a touch, he continued.

“Many of you will be wondering who I am but fear not, my luddites, all questions will be answered!” He paused. “I am The Riddler! The prince of puzzles! King of conundrums, and you all will be participating in a game of my choosing while I attend to some business within the museum!”

As all eyes stayed on the oddly-dressed criminal, Bruce spotted two of the henchmen disappearing into the closed-off door which led to the items which the museum kept in storage.

A robbery.

That's what this was.

“So, on to the game!” Riddler bounced down the few steps before him with a childlike enthusiasm. “I am going to put some very simple, almost too easy, riddles to you all and for every one which you fail to answer there will be...consequences.”

As though on cue, every henchmen holding a gun cocked it and the series of clicks sent a collective shudder through the crowd at the implications.

“Riddle me this,” he clicked his heels against the stone floor and turned fully in place, “I can be written, spoken, exposed and broken. What am I?”

Eyebrows furrowing, it took Bruce a moment to reach the solution.

News.

This one liked attention, it seemed.

The few in the crowd who were not too frightened to think wore matching expressions of confusion and determination as they attempted to work out a solution. Bruce would have offered it up, but he needed to remain as hidden as possible to exploit any potential opportunity of disappearing and bringing in the Batman to crash this situation.

“No one?” Feigning surprise, Riddler tutted and shook his head. “That is disappointing. Truly. Perhaps I will give you one more minute before I begin to punish the foolishness.”

A whimper of fright escaped Amelie again and Bruce was forced to place a comforting hand on her arm as his mind whirled with possibilities. He could whisper the solution to her but that could put her in further danger if this lunatic took notice of her.

“Five.”

A countdown.

“Four.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“News.”

Voice strong and confident in his answer, Bruce threw it out with little regard for his own desire to stay hidden. These people were more important.

“Who said that?” Eyes squinting into the crowd with quick, darting movements, the glare on Riddlers' face softened as he recognised his winner.

“Bruce Wayne!” He cried, showman voice projecting with very little effort. “Gothams' most prized and beloved son. What brings you here, Mr Wayne? This is a home of culture and learning, there are no bars or airhead socialites for you to accost within these walls.”

Pausing for a moment, his attention darted to Amelie and Bruces' hand on her arm.

“Or perhaps I am mistaken.”

Amelie released a high-pitched noise as she was spoken to directly and shielded her gaze with her jewel-covered hand.

Gesturing to Bruce with a lazy hand, Riddler spoke to two of his henchmen.

“Bring him up here.”

Pulling his grip from Amelie, Bruce stood fully and brushed dirt off the chest of his suit as he was flanked by two muscular goons and led up the small staircase towards the Riddler. It would do no good to fight at the moment and at the very leasy, this would afford him an opportunity to understand this new criminal better.

From this close position, Bruce was able to pick out more details about the man calling himself “Riddler” as he allowed his gaze to linger on him.

The shade of his dark brown hair was suspiciously even across the scalp and the lack of natural high or lowlights suggested a dye job but the pink tie-mask covering his eyebrows was making it difficult to guess as to his natural colour, so Bruce moved on.

His eyes were blue and the intelligence radiating from them as they absorbed everything within their range gave the azure shade an almost shining quality as they finally locked on to Bruces' own.

As he pulled himself from his judgements, Bruce was surprised to note that a similar look of judgement graced the face of the man before him but with the addition of the beginnings of a blush high on his cheeks.

Blushing?

Why?

It was not until the look of judgement had passed on Riddlers' face, only to be replaced with a knowing smirk, that Bruce understood his sighted investigation had been mistaken.

Riddler thought that Bruce had been checking him out.

Ah.

“So Mr Wayne,” Riddler opened the dialogue with a predatory smile, showcasing a row of pearly-white teeth, “you seem to possess more intellect than I initially gave you credit for.”

“I just answered the question,” Bruce answered, his jaw tight as he kept himself hyper-aware of his situation, “and I did not want to see innocent people hurt, Riddl-”

“Edward.” Riddler interrupted, tilting his head. “ _You_ may call me Edward, Mr Wayne.”

Well that saved a considerable amount of detective work and Bruce filed the information away for use by his alter-ego.

“If it's all the same to you, i'd like to stick with 'Riddler'.”

“”I must insist.” The same pleasant smile but with a newly dangerous edge.

“Edward,” Bruce tested out, slightly uncomfortable by the familiarity, before launching into his previous spiel, “I couldn't let you hurt these innocent people.”

“Innocent.” Edward snorted as his gaze swept the room which had grown louder as people murmured amongst themselves as the henchmen kept a keen watch. “Not a clean hand among them,” he continued, “but to make a small confession to you, Mr. Wayne, I have no intention of harming these people. I just wish to make a small withdrawal from the museum and to announce my presence to the people.”

“You're a criminal.”

“It would seem that way wouldn't it.” Tilting his head, Edward appraised Bruce again. “But then things are not always what they seem, are they Mr. Wayne?”

The accuracy of the statement leaving the hairs on the nape of his neck shifting, Bruce ignored them in favour of a smile.

“Meaning?”

“Of all the dimwitted fools in this city, I would never have anticipated yourself as being one of the very few who could actually answer one of my riddles. It would appear that you do possess some brain to back up that considerable brawn.” Edward finished his comments with a none-too-subtle sweeping gaze across Bruces' muscular arms and thick chest, hidden as they were beneath his suit.

Having the distinct feeling that he was being flirted with left Bruce off-kilter as he considered how to approach the situation.

Edward was handsome in his own way.

His mannerisms and appearance possessing many of the qualities of the old showmen and actors who had graced Bruces' television as a child, giving him an almost familiar feeling which Bruce was loathe to admit to.

But he was a criminal who had a touch of charisma, nothing more.

“You don't need to do this.” Bruce urged, changing the subject in the hopes that he could influence events. “You don't need to hurt these people or steal. Just walk away and you won't be hunter or arrested.”

“Arrested,” Edward snorted his disbelief, “and, again, I have no intention of hurting these people but I am in desperate need of a new centrepiece for my office and this museum houses the perfect item.”

Blinking, Bruce was certain he misheard.

“All this for a new office trinket?”

Edward laughed and it surprisingly pleasant compared to the laughs of the costumed criminals he tended to deal with as it lacked a true sadistic edge.

“Surely you of all people understand that sometimes it is necessary to indulge in the finer things in life.” Edward grinned.

“I can help you-” Bruce started but was cut off.

“And I could kill you,” Edward interrupted, “but both things are wholly unnecessary in this current situation.”

“So you don't plan on killing me then?”

“Oh goodness gracious no,” exclaiming the words with exaggeration, Edward shook his head quickly, “you have made yourself far too interesting, Mr. Wayne. Not only have you answered my riddle but here you stand before me and I cannot sense even the slightest hint of fear or hesitation when you speak to me, despite the situation. You are...interesting.”

Sensing the word held further meaning than it should, Bruce stood as still as possible as he absorbed the potential meanings.

A scream of smashing glass interrupted the moment as a small, dark item flew through one of the high windows and started to issue its contents among the henchmen and crowd.

Tear gas.

“AND THAT IS OUR CUE TO LEAVE! Riddler announced over the panicked screams and choking of the various individuals caught in the gas as the front doors of the museum crashed open with various shouts of “GCPD” being audible over the chaos.

Eyes darting past Edward, Bruce caught sight of the two henchmen from earlier escaping out the back door with a rounded package which he heavily suspected may have been one of the older Roman shields which had been placed into storage to make way for the new display items.

Halfway up the stairs and towards his escape, Edward paused long enough to meet Bruces' gaze with his own again.

“Until next time, Mr. Wayne.”

The words were muttered but Bruce caught them easily as he spun in position and made his way back over to the liberated hostages and Amelie, her eyes streaming and face reddened as she fell victim to the tear gas.

_Until next time._

However, Bruce had a sneaking suspicion that Edward “The Riddler” would be meeting the Bat long before he encountered Bruce Wayne again.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second chance meeting (well third if you wanna get pedantic on me) between Bruce Wayne and Edward Nygma. Ed's girls know how to keep him sweet! xx

Bruce Wayne was no stranger to awaking to an unknown situation and, despite the familiarity, it never made the experience any easier.

Ignoring the throbbing of his temple, his thoughts were strained as they fought to recall his last memory.

 

-x-x-x-x

 

Even billionaires suffered misfortune and after a burst pipe in the North wing of the manor had ruined an entire guest bedroom, leaving it unfit for habitation and in serious need of fixing, Bruce found himself in need of some emergency shopping.

Deciding that he would deal with the issue himself as soon as possible, a quick change of clothing into something comfortable found him ready to shop for a new floor. Alfred had offered to do it, of course, but sometimes Bruce enjoyed doing simple things himself.

Plus, it cut the workload of the older man which was always a good thing in Bruce's eyes.

The task itself had not been difficult. Taking one of his less flashy cars and driving to the supplier, he was immediately taken by a beautiful style of wooden flooring which was only produced by an isolated village within the Scottish highlands. Decisive as ever, he was quick to purchase the necessary amount and have several packs placed inside his car with the rest to be delivered to the manor within the week.

Blessed by the power of hindsight, he should have suspected something when the pair immediately knew his identity despite his efforts to conceal it.

“Hey! Bruce Wayne!”

Appearing from nowhere and catching him be surprise as he attempted to enter his car, the two women who stopped him wore identical pairs of sunglasses with dark t-shirts and jeans covering their bodies from the warm sun above.

“You're Bruce Wayne! Aren't you?!”

Repeating herself, the short-haired brunette waved her fingers at him.

“Yeah! I'm sure it is.”

The other women, this one with longer, blonde hair, peered over her glasses at him before dropping to one knee and rifling through the large handbag she had placed on the ground.

“Hello, ladies!” Bruce plastered a smile on his face, hoping to get the greetings and requested 'selfie' out of the way before the women could attract any more attention his way. “How's your day going?”

“Better than yours is, rich boy.” The blonde giggled as she stood up again.

Before Bruce could properly register her words, the dark-haired woman had grabbed his wrists and, as he glanced down in surprise at her strength, the blonde swung her arm towards him and it was not until the explosion of pain in his temple that he realised that she was holding a small, retractable nightstick.

Sinking to the floor, Bruce only had time to chastise himself for his stupidity for a moment before the darkness welcomed him.

 

x-x-x-x-x

 

Eyes sweeping across the warehouse he was now occupying, Bruce sat perfectly still as irritation coiled like a serpent within him.

Kidnapped.

Again.

Bringing a hand up his head in order to rub gently at the soft skin of his temple, it took him a moment to realise that his hands were not bound in any way. Glancing down at his ankles, he was again surprised to find a lack of zip-tie, cuff or rope which was keeping him pinned to the metal table he had been seated at.

Rising slowly form his chair, a voice was quick to cut him off.

“Sit your ass down, Wayne. The boss will be here in a minute and I want you there,” the voice announced, “when he does.”

Eyes following the voices skyward, Bruce was confronted by the sight of his two assailants from earlier sitting atop a small walkway, their fishnet covered legs dangling free as they gazed down at him.

They had changed clothes and with the change came knowledge.

Both wearing black fishnet tights and identical emerald green bodysuits, the only differences in appearance came as a result of their hair and footwear as the blonde wore thigh-high green boots while the brunette favoured small heeled pixie boots. However, the true indication of their loyalty, which was undeniable, was the large black question marks which stretched across the front of their catsuits; curving around their chests before ending just below the abdomen.

Riddler.

With knowledge came confusion.

It had been six months since he had encountered Edward Nygma within the Gotham Museum as the costumed criminal helped himself to some of the priceless artefacts but since that event there had been virtually no contact.

Well, no contact as Bruce Wayne.

After being alerted of an ongoing robbery of the Second National Bank, the Batman had been quick to arrive on the scene and after a minor scuffle, had successfully captured the perpetrator: the Riddler. Aside from the taking of some hostages, no harm had come to any of the citizens involved and Bruce had handed Nygma over to the authorities for them to deal with.

He had been surprised by the decision made to send him to Arkham Asylum but despite his suggestion that perhaps Blackgate might be a better fit, he had been ignored.

By donning a costume and declaring himself a super-criminal, Nygma had signed his own fate and found himself carted off to the insane asylum with the worst of humanity.

That had occurred four weeks ago and Bruce was not too shocked by the headlines which appeared last week in the Gotham Tribune which screamed that the Riddler had escaped the asylum.

The man was a genius and Arkham was flawed.

Keeping his ears to the ground, he had been unable to pick up any trace of Edward Nygma after his escape but he was certain that the silence could not hold forever.

This though?

This he did not expect.

“Why am I here?” Holding eye contact with the brunette, Bruce demanded an answer.

Tutting, the brunette shook her head.

“Only one guy gets to ask us questions and he isn't here right now! So shut up!”

Biting at him, her head snapped to the side to the faded door at the end of the walkway which had started to move.

As the door opened fully, a tall, thin, male figure slipped through before closing it behind him.

“HEY BOSS!”

The girls cried in unison before jumping to their feet and bounding along the walkway towards him.

As the reached him, Edward threw his arms out to the sides in order to balance them both and prevent himself from being knocked to the floor.

“Hey girls,” Edward smiled at the pair, “what's green, white, and red all over?”

Their faces twisting into fond, if exasperated smiles, the brunette was the first to answer.

“A leprechaun in a blender.”

“Nice try, dear, but the answer will be me if you don't learn to control your strength and accidentally knock me off this walkway.” Edward chastised them gently.

“How is that different from my answer?” The brunette shrugged her slim shoulders, smiling cheekily as she continued. “Not our fault you can't benchpress anything.”

Having better things to do with his life than listen to the bickering of criminals, Bruce cleared his throat with enough force to draw attention. Better to cut to the chase and find out exactly why he was here and how much it would likely cost for him to be freed.

Caught off guard by the noise, Edward startled as his body turned to face the interruption and, as Bruce met his sights, the stiffening of his frame was barely concealed as he recognised his unexpected guest.

Edward's heeled shoes clacking a soft tune against the metal as he descended the spiral stairway which connected the walkway to the ground floor and his expression was unreadable as he paused a few feet away from Bruces' seated position.

“Nina, Dierdre,” Edward sighed and the volume of it carried around the room, “you know how I feel about uninvited visitors.”

Nina was the first to respond.

“But boss! We both know you've been feeling a bit down recently so we thought we would cheer you up with a little visit!” She threw down from her elevated stance.

“And you chose Bruce Wayne?”

Edwards' tone was laced with his confusion.

“Well...” Deirdre cut in, “we thought it might be nice because you have been talking a lot abou-”

“Deirdre!”

A warning.

“Sorry, boss.” Deirdre grinned her apology with little remorse.

“I would ask them to apologise but it would take too much effort and we both know it would lack sincerity.” Edward shrugged as he seated himself in the seat opposite Bruce.

“I wouldn't believe them.” Bruce paused to dart his eyes at the women, who were watching the meeting closely.

“Fair.” Agreeing, Edward snapped his head up. “Right, girls. Make like trees and branch.”

“Aww boss, c'mo-”

“Nina.”

Another warning.

Nina rolled her eyes but grabbed at Diedre to encourage her to move.

“Come on, Query. Looks like we aren't wanted.”

“I did hire you for your perceptiveness, dear.” Edward quipped as Query flipped him off before disappearing through the door at the end of the walkway with Echo in tow.

As Edward watched them leave, Bruce settled his gaze on Edward.

He looked hellish.

Dark circles decorated the pale skin beneath Edwards' eyes and alluded to the obvious lack of sleep which he was no doubt suffering from. His eyes almost seemed dull as they focussed on the disappearing form of his 'girls' and a quick once-over of his frame suggested that he had lost a little weight.

Already thin to begin with, the loss had placed him at the beginnings of being gaunt.

However, there had been another impressive change and that was pure aesthetic.

Gone was the cheap-looking spandex, now replaced with a form-fitting three-piece suit which boasted a very impressive shade of emerald, save for the waistcoat which was a light purple to off-set the green. Matched with a crisp black shirt and purple accessories to compliment the waistcoat, he had certainly made improvements to his look.

Throw in the bowler hat and gold cane and he truly did cut a fine figure.

Much to Bruces' annoyance.

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

As Edward held out a hand to match his words, Bruce met it with one of his own in a hesitant handshake.

Edward had surprisingly calloused hands.

Bruce had expected them to be soft.

A quick tilt of his head saw a wince overtake Bruce as it disturbed the pain in his head from the nightstick blow.

Noticing the wince, Edwards' intelligent gaze zeroed in on the afflicted area.

“Did they break the skin?”

“No.” Bruce confessed. “But i'd appreciate it if they didn't do it again.”

“My girls can be,” Edward hesitated to find the right word, “overzealous.”

“ _Your_ girls?” Sensing an opportunity for information, Bruce went for it.

“Hired after our first meeting in the museum,” Edward explained, splaying his gloved hands on the table as he stretched them out, “after showing some real promise. It was only a temporary partnership but after I crossed them an-”

“You crossed them? Brave.”

“Apparently so.” Edward chuckled. “I disappeared with their share of the loot and awoke the following morning to a gun being pointed directly at my fine features. They managed to find me despite my efforts to evade them.” His tone spoke of his pride. “Very dedicated and intelligent. I gave them their share and more if they agreed to work with me permanently. Their skills are undeniable and they are worth infinitely more than the average goon.”

“You seem,” Bruce was a little taken aback by the obvious affection which was on display, “fond of them?”

“Disgustingly so.” Edward chuckled easily. “They have even went so far as to stay with me most nights in our various hideouts. A match made in heaven, or hell depending on your view.”

“So why did they kidnap me? How did I draw their anger?” Bruce went it for the kill while Edward appeared to be in a jovial mood.

“Because you answered my riddle.”

As though it were the most obvious and simple answer in the world, Edward matched the words with another smile before continuing on as though Bruce had never interrupted.

“Besides, my girls also possess a wealth of knowledge which I have yet to properly mine to determine which little golden nuggets of information I can use to our shared advantage.”

“Knowledge?”

“Both Query and Echo have a long history of work within Pandoras Boxxx. You are aware of it? Yes?”

Pandoras Boxxx.

Gothams' premier fetish club, where confidentiality was guaranteed, as was any act your perverted heart desired.

“I am.”

“Their particular line of work has led to their being made privy to a whole host of dirty little secrets which the politicians, financiers and lawmakers of Gotham would rather not see come to light.”

Clasping his hands, Edward tilted his head ever so slightly.

“But then again, I don't think I need to explain the intricacies of secret-keeping to you, Mr. Wayne. You are more than qualified in keeping certain elements of your life separate from others, aren't you?”

The smallest tendrils of panic arose in Bruces' spine as Edwards' tone and posture suggested that he was building up to something.

“What do you mean?” He forced his smile to stay put.

“I knew from the moment we met that you were more than you appeared.” Edward accused. “Your gaze was much more intelligent than your playboy persona would suggest and you were able to face me down without much fear. That got me thinking,” his grin was shark-like, “and we both know that is where I will always succeed.”

Bruce tensed.

“So I kept a vague eye on your appearances throughout my other 'plans' and then I started to notice some odd things. Such as suspicious bruising which was, admittedly, very cleverly hidden but not enough to fool those who know how to achieve a similar result.”

Interesting.

What bruises did Edward Nygma have to hide?

Bruce filed that away as Edward continued.

“The bruising and the fake personality. Odd. I followed the trail and found some very interesting things, some the result of excellent guesswork and some the result of hear-say but I can say, with confidence that I know your secret identity, Bruce Wayne.”

Knuckles white as his hands pressed into fists, genuine panic and concern coursing through him as his head whirled with possibilities, Bruce could only ask-

“Which is?”

Leaning forward so that very little space separated them, Edwards' eyes seemed to glitter dangerously with his stolen knowledge.

“Matches Malone.”

Relief, like lightening, pierced Bruces' heart and manifested itself as an odd grunt-like noise which escaped his throat as the tension in his body snapped free.

Interpreting the noise as confirmation, Edward rocked back into his seat with a look of victory as he waited for a response.

“I don't know how you've reached that conclus-” Bruce started but was cut off.

“Riddle me this? If you have me you want to share me, but if you share me you break me. What am I?”

“A secret.” That was an easy one.

A wide grin met his answer as Edward beamed.

“Exactly, and I am willing to keep yours. Why you do it? I'll confess I do not know. Is it for extra money? To work out aggression? The thrill? I won't judge. But you never know when a billionaire who moonlights as a criminal will come in handy and I may have future need of you.”

“I have no intention of ending up in Arkham.” Bruce retorted, determined to claw back some of the power in this situation and to ensure that he was not viewed as an easy mark.

Souring instantly at the mention of the Asylum, all traces of humour disappeared from Edwards' expression.

“I will not go back there.” He practically snarled and Bruce was again thrown by the raw emotion behind the words as Edward ranted. “The mad truly do run the asylum and what an asylum it is. Food practically inedible and cells lacking even basic amenities. I left with more injuries than I entered with and that was only the guards.”

Shocked, Bruce allowed his surprise to show.

“Is that what Arkham has become?”

“Was it ever any better?” Edward shot back, nostrils flaring. “Its reputation precedes it.”

Lost in thought at the revelations, Bruce barely noticed Edward forcing himself back under control until the other man stood suddenly and broke him from his stupor.

“You're leaving?”

“A genius is always busy,” Edward shrugged apologetically as he checked his watch, “and as much as I am enjoying this little tête-à-tête I have another appointment.”

Bruce felt oddly put-out.

“Will you return my flooring to me?” Bruce asked, the question springing to his head as he recalled the entire point of his original excursion.

“The wood?” Edward asked before giving an open laugh. “Of course not Mr. Wayne, even I know the value of that flooring and there is just the right amount to fully fit-out one of my personal favourite hideouts. I am sure you understand that I simply cannot allow you to have it back?”

“Thief.”

Too amused to be irritated, Edward gave a small bow.

“In this instance? A valid accusation.”

Edward inclined his head towards Bruce as he started his journey up the metal stairwell from where he had originally descended.

“Until next time, Mr. Wayne.”

Realising that he had been dismissed and was free to go, Bruce stood and he suspected that his headache was not only a result of the earlier blow.

Nygma knew his secret identity.

Well, one of them at least.

The obvious threat could not be ignored and that included the possibility of blackmail but, much to Bruces' irritation, he did believe in Edwards' promise that he would not be using his knowledge for too much personal gain. He could not sense any lies in his presentation and that in itself led to more questions than he wanted to answer.

This issue was one which he could see rearing its head on the immediate horizon but he put those deliberations on the back burner for the moment until he could truly dedicate them the time they deserved.

Edward had complained about Arkham and his complaints rang as too valid to be ignored.

Arkham could be fixed much more easily than his current problems.

But only after he had fixed the mansion.

 

 

 


End file.
